Always Kind
by DramaGeek
Summary: John's sister hires Sherlock to investigate the death of her ex-wife, Clara. The investigation leads the pair to an impossible girl who might just have a case of her own for them.
1. Clara

**A/N** _Since in the Whoverse there are now thousands of Clara's, I couldn't help but play around with the idea that one of them is John Watson's sister in-law. I'm sure I'm not the first, but I am pretty sure no one else will take it in this direction. There's sort of hints at Clara/Doctor, and far more subtly John/Sherlock, but it's not very shippy. _

_I had this all planned out before seeing Day of the Doctor, and now it doesn't quite fit into the world. Sorry dear readers, you will just have to suspend your disbelief. _

**Chapter 1 - Clara**

"The least they could have done was offer us a ride home. We did after all save them from an embezzlement charge that would have surely bankrupted the company and possibly landed them both in jail," Sherlock grumbled as he and John made their way home from Regent Park.

"Well you did out him to his fiancé/business partner at their rehearsal dinner."

"It was imperative that they be informed at once. And I need not remind you that the hiring of a Rent Boy was a key piece of evidence towards his innocence." Sherlock noticed a black cab up the street, but John stopped him before he was able to hail it.

"Sherlock," John said, in the type of tone one uses when speaking to a child, "we are only a few blocks away. Besides, the walk will do us good." Sherlock adjusted his scarf and stared directly in front of him. _Insolent child_, John thought without a trace of malice.

They stopped for a red light next to a small brunette. John glanced her way and then did a quick double take, "Clara?" The woman turned around, but seemed to look right through him. "It's John. John Watson. Harry's brother."

The woman still stared at him without recognition, "Sorry, I think you have me mistaken for someone else." Her eyes shot up to see the light change before taking a final look back at John, "Again, sorry about that." In the next moment she was moving quickly across the street and was soon lost to the crowds.

John stood there truly perplexed, "It was like she didn't know me."

"No, she didn't," Sherlock said, leading his bewildered friend across the street before they missed the light.

"She looked at me as if we'd never met before... I mean I know her and Harry didn't exactly end on good terms, but I've known that woman for years..."

"I doubt that," Sherlock said in his matter of fact way that tended to make people want to hit him. Such obnoxious confidence never phased John, he looked up at Sherlock and waited for an explanation. John knew he had no patience and would spell everything out given time. True to form Sherlock asked, with a hint of a smile, "How does your sister manage to acquire such young tail?"

"Tail?" John repeated, highlighting the colloquialism that sounded so unnatural when Sherlock said it.

"I mean that kind of age gap is impressive, she must have a great deal to offer."

"Age gap? My sister and Clara met in university, they are the same age, almost to the day."

"And she is your older sister?"

"You know very well she is. We're almost home, would you get to the point already."

"The point, my dear Watson, is that the woman you spoke to today was no more than 25 years old."

"She... you're right, she was..." John's expression softened as he reevaluated the exchange, never once letting his pride get in the way of the facts. "She was quite young, wasn't she?" This was one of the traits Sherlock liked best about John, that he was in no way pigheaded. So many people (particularly those Sherlock encountered in law enforcement) clung on to ideas and theories long after they had been disproven, and then for some reason begrudged the person that had set them on the right path. John always took things at face value and was perfectly happy to admit when he was wrong, "So when she looked at me like she didn't know me it was because... she didn't know me."

"Precisely."

"She did turn around when I said 'Clara'."

"It's not exactly an uncommon name."

John shook his head in disbelief, "She's the spitting image. That is exactly how Clara looked when I first met her." Sherlock still wore his condescending smirk. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe that you believe it and I don't doubt the girl probably resembles your ex sister in-law. But the brain is constantly interpreting data and filling in pieces. I think she reminded you of Clara and that's who you saw her as." John unlocked the door to 221b Baker Street and held it open for Sherlock, "Incidentally, that is also why eye witnesses are routinely unreliable."

"Not this time. I'm telling you they looked the same," John argued as the pair ascended the stairs. "I've known that woman for more than a decade and the girl look just like- Harry?" John entered the living room and found his sister sitting on the couch with her head in her hands. She looked up at the sound of her name, revealing red, swollen eyes. On instinct John knelt down beside her, "God Harry... What's wrong?"

"It's... it's Clara," she began, her voice breaking, "she's... dead." She looked about ready to collapse in grief. John reached out for her, but before he was able to comfort her she sat up a little straighter and stared directly at Sherlock, "I'd like to employ your services Mr. Holmes. I'd like you to discover..." her false composure was breaking, "why... why she died."


	2. The Man She Saved

**A/N** _I had a bit of extra time so I thought I'd post the next chapter. I feel like I'm leading you on a little, I don't often update this fast. Don't worry, I will definitely finish before the Christmas Special and the third series of Sherlock. _

**Chapter 2 - The Man She Saved**

"Can you help me?"

John had seen his sister in some pretty dire states over the years, but this was the first time she had ever truly seemed undone. He rested his hand on her shoulder and said reassuringly, "Of course. We'll go make a pot of tea and you can tell us everything. Sherlock," John walked into the kitchen, beckoning his partner to follow. Sherlock complied, although he didn't understand why he was being summoned, "Surely making tea is a singular activity."

John was only proving Sherlock's point by putting the kettle on and placing three cups on a tray. It was while he did this that John finally spoke, "She is my sister."

"Obviously," the sharp look John shot him silenced Sherlock completely.

"She is my sister; not a client. That means the you will be kind. You will not attack her or belittle her. You will not rush her or in anyway imply her tale is boring. You will be courteous and polite, even if it means you have to think about your words before they come out of your mouth."

Sherlock considered this carefully before asking, "What if I need to ask her something of a less than flattering nature? What if the investigation depends on it?"

"Then you will ask it in a polite and respectful manner. If you cannot do this you can leave. Understood?"

Sherlock merely nodded, unaccustomed to being spoken to so decidedly. With the water now boiled John filled the tea pot and carried the tray into the other room, Sherlock followed directly after him, still working out what he was suppose to say.

The tea seemed to steady Harry and when she looked nearly settled Sherlock said, "Please describe the circumstances of Clara's death." John shot him a warning look, "Whenever you're ready," Sherlock added quickly. He could already tell 'kind' was going to be a challenge.

"It... It happened yesterday afternoon. We were out for lunch in Covent Garden."

"You've been in contact then? My understanding was that you were..." this thinking before he spoke was not particularly pleasant either, "estranged."

"We have been. It's only recently that we're been seeing each other again."

"Romantically?"

"No. Not yet anyway. We were taking it slow," a tear slid down her cheek, but Harry maintained her composure. Sherlock was impatient for her to continue her description of the day's events, but did not want that impatience to come out in his voice, so he borrowed a trick of John's and simply waited. "We were sitting out on a patio. You remember how beautiful the weather was yesterday? We'd just ordered and were catching up when this man walked past."

"Could you describe him?"

"Tall and quite thin. He wore a suit and had a long brown coat over it. He walked past and Clara just stopped talking and stared at him."

"Did she know him?" John asked.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I certainly didn't. And he didn't even look her way, but it was like she was transfix. She watched him for a long moment before getting up and following after him without so much as a word. It was so unlike her. I signaled to the server that we'd be right back and chased after her. She had turned down the adjacent street and when I followed suit I saw the man standing in the middle of the road."

"Was he crossing or just standing in place."

"I'm not sure. It looked to me like he had been crossing, but something distracted him. He was half turned and looking over his shoulder. So he didn't see the car. That's when it happened. When Clara... she just jumped out in front and pushed the man out of the way." Harry looked lost to the memory; her hands gripping the now empty tea cup tightly.

"She was hit?" Sherlock added, trying not to be impertinent.

Harry simply nodded without meeting his eyes, "She was already gone by the time I made it over to her."

"Did you get the license plate number?" John asked.

Harry simply stared at her brother without comprehension. Sherlock did his best to call her back out of herself, "Or do you remember anything about the car?"

"The car...?" Harry still looked confused. "The car stopped. It was the driver who called 911. He was pretty shaken up. But he did the right thing."

"What did the man Clara saved have to say for himself?"

"Nothing, he wasn't there. Must have slipped out in the commotion."

"Why would he do that?" John asked no one in particular. Sherlock caught his eye and his expression said, 'why indeed'.

Harry's mind was understandably somewhere else, "I just don't know why she saved him. She didn't even know him."

"Is there a chance she just never told you about him? Could he be her lover?"

John shot Sherlock a glare, but Harry took the question in stride, "It's possible. Clara's never been particularly rigid with that sort of thing. But... The way he looked at her just as she did it... without any recognition. He looked as confused and bewildered as me."

Sherlock studied Harry carefully. Greasy hair, wrinkled clothing, the smell of perspiration not quite hidden by deodorant working a little too hard. All common traits of the grieving, but something was missing, "Ms. Watson, may I ask you a personal question?" Sherlock could feel John holding his breath. "How long have you been sober?"

"What?!" John said, unable to contain his shock. Even Harry looked surprised, albeit for different reasons.

"You've lost someone dear to you. You haven't eaten or slept, you haven't even changed your clothes. Losing a loved one could lead anyone to drink and yet I don't smell a drop of liquor on you. That takes discipline and is therefore not a new habit."

"I'm nearly five months sober. That's why Clara and I were talking again. When I was drinking... well she didn't like it, but she never left. I sort of hated her for that. For not just walking out. For staying and wanting me to change. But once I did change... well it was so obvious what a fool I'd been, and how much I loved her."

Sherlock thought this all through, "What..." he paused and reconsidered his wording. How was he to do this _kindly_? "What is it you would like us to do?"

"I want to understand what happened. I want you to figure out who he was and why... why she did it. I know legally it's open and shut, she was hit by a car, they have the driver. The cops have explained it all to me. But I still want... can you help me understand?"

"Ms. Watson, when it comes to losing those closest to us, I don't know if we can ever truly understand it. However, I will do everything in my power to find the answers you seek."

Harry looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, "Thank you, Mr. Holmes".

* * *

Sherlock had left the Watsons in the living room to cry, hug, perhaps drink more tea, simply put, engage in typical grieving behaviour. He used their absence to do some quick preliminary work on the case and to flip through the photos of Clara Harry had sent him. He was astonished (and a little delighted) to realize that John had been exactly right, the young woman on the street really was identical to Clara minus fifteen or so years. He did not have enough information to decide whether or not that was pertinent to the case, but... it certainly wasn't boring.

After showing his sister to the door, John joined Sherlock in the kitchen. "Thank you." Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "For what you said to Harry. You were good with her."

"How do you do it so easily?" It was John's turn to look confused. "Being kind. I find it... challenging." Sherlock thought back on the conversation and compared it to other interactions he had had with clients in the past, "But it can be affective".

John had to laugh at how a man that brilliant was only now realizing the old adage, 'you get more flies with honey', "What's the plan?"

"You know this woman. You can contact her friends, family, anyone who might know who that man was, or any other reasons she might throw herself in front of a car." John grimaced and was thankful that Harry had already left. "This should help," as if on cue John's phone beeped. Sherlock's text revealed a slightly grainy picture of a tall, thin man in a long coat.

"Is this the man Clara saved? Where did you get this?"

"Lestrade sent it to me. He got the image off of the CCTV. See if it jogs anyone's memory."

"What will you be doing?"

"Not to worry. I've got my own ways of tracking him down."


	3. Impossible

**A/N ** _Thanks for the reviews and follows. You're all great._

**Chapter 3 - Impossible**

"No Sherlock, there's absolutely no way," Inspector Lestrade said firmly. "We already have a backlog of priority cases waiting for the facial recognition software. How could I possibly let you jump the queue with a car crash we closed yesterday?"

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Lestrade relaxed a small degree, perhaps Sherlock was planning to be more reasonable for once. "I was not asking permission. I have already been granted access by Superintendent Gregson. I was merely asking for use of a room where I could operate the software in private." Lestrade was generally an even tempered man (which maybe why he was far more capable of working with Sherlock than most of his team). He tried to keep his face neutral, but he knew Sherlock could see that he was fuming underneath. Would it be the lines on his face that gave him away or the way he set his jaw? He didn't much care. Silently he directed Sherlock to a meeting room, and managed to resist the urge to hit him.

* * *

John arrived at the police station a couple of hours later. He couldn't help but notice the exasperated look on Lestrade's face as the inspector pointed him in the direction of the world's only consulting detective.

Although the room was rather large for only one person, Sherlock managed to take up all of the space. He had multiple monitors going at once and the small table in the centre of the room was littered with file folders. "What have you learned?" he said, without looking up at John. It wasn't as though Sherlock overlooked or forgot pleasantries, he purposely neglected them in an effort to be more efficient.

"Not much. No one recognized the man or knew of any reason why she would harm herself. Everyone said she was in good spirits lately, most attributed that to reconnecting with Harry. How about you? What have you found?"

"The impossible," Sherlock raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a grin on his face.

"Well at least you've located some dramatics. Did you find the man?"

"No," if John didn't know better he would have said Sherlock looked pleased.

"Was the image too grainy?"

"The picture was fine, there just wasn't a match."

John had to think about that for a moment, "So... so who is he?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Sherlock really was smiling now. Oh how he loved a puzzle, "No drivers licence, no passport, certainly no Instagram account. As far as I can tell he was never born, never died, and does not exist, except in this moment," he indicated to one of the monitors. John was relieved to find Sherlock had paused the CCTV footage. It was bad enough having Harry describe it, John had no desire to see the incident for himself.

"So is that what I tell my sister? That Clara died saving a man who, as far as we can tell, doesn't exist?" Sherlock was still smiling. "You've found something else."

"I have," Sherlock said with his usual pride. "As you can imagine it did not take very long to find no results. Instead I took another look at the photos that Harry sent and was struck once again by how much her Clara resembled the young woman from today. Born nearly fifteen years apart and yet they were otherwise identical."

"You searched her," John said, knowing his colleague well enough to guess his next move, "what did you find?"

"For starters, your ex-sister in-law." John couldn't help but cringe at the prefix. Unfazed Sherlock handed him a printout, "Clara Watson, formally Clara Oswin. Born in Windsor, 1974."

John stared down at the picture. He always liked Clara. Harry used to joke that he was planning to run away with her, but it was never like that. She was a good person, and a superb match for his sister (and had enough sass to hold her own in conversations with Harry, not something everyone could do). She deserve better than this. John looked back up at Sherlock, but something caught his eye, there was another printout in the folder, "Did you find her then? The young woman from today?"

"As a matter of fact I did," he tossed John another page as he continued, "Clara Oswald. Born in Lancashire, 1989."

John stared between the two pictures. He knew they looked alike, but seeing the photographs next to each other made his skin crawl. It wasn't just that they looked similar, they looked like the same woman, "That's not possible," he said finally, in disbelief.

"No," Sherlock looked delighted, "and that's just the beginning."

He grabbed a different folder and tossed it to John. Each page was a different woman, all with the same face. John looked flabbergasted, "How many are there?"

"Thirty six so far."

John sifted through the pages, "1975. 1963. 1947? How far back do they go?!"

Sherlock simply beamed, "As far back as Britain has used photographs on legal documents. And those are just the British citizens. I've found several immigrants in the mix. Imagine if we expanded our search to the world. Look at their names."

John did as instructed, "Clara Oswald, Clara Oswin, Oswin Oswald..."

"Just those three names over and over. Even the foreign born women have names that directly translate to those three. More over, I've found evidence of more than a hundred women with the same combinations of names, going all the way back to when we first began keeping records."

"How is it possible? Are they all related? Is it some weird family thing?"

"I have found no evidence that they are connected in any way."

"What are you suggesting then? Cloning? These pictures predate it. Unless human cloning began much earlier than was ever reported."

"Yes, a good deal earlier, I should say," Sherlock handed John a third folder.

Inside was a black and white photo of a woman in Victorian clothing; a woman with the same face as all of the others, "It's not a forgery, is it?"

"Clara Oswin Oswald. Born in London 1866. She was a bar maid successfully masquerading as a governess. She died defending the family from a home intruder."

"Really?"

"That's a common trait with this lot, actually. Something of a hero complex. Almost none of these women died of natural causes. Their ends were often accidental or violent, usually in an effort to save a life, and frequently someone they, by all accounts, didn't know."

"So, you think it is cloning then? That they're all the same woman? Maybe this woman?" John asked, holding up the photograph. Sherlock smiled again. A devilish grin he reserved for the most interesting of cases (it was also the grin that tended to unnerve others for its unfortunate emergence around dead bodies or particularly gruesome aspects of a case). "You found something else."

Sherlock held the last folder almost reverently in his hands, "My search also led me to some historical archives," he passed it over with a twinkle in his eye.

The folder contained two images that John carefully laid out in front of him. Both contained one of the (for lack of a better term) Claras. The first image appeared to be taken on a Russian submarine, the name Firebird was handwritten in the corner along with the date, 1983. What a young woman was doing on such a vessel was a question in itself. The second photo showed four figures in a grand house. "What makes these two stand out?"

"Well unlike the other images I found, these women have not been identified. They are called 'Clara', no last name given, and by all reports they seemed to appear out of no where and left without a trace."

"Well with this many women sharing the same face there are bound to be times people don't know them."

"Yes, but look at the clothing."

The woman was wearing an oversized military jacket in the first shot, so John turned to the second, "Vaguely vintage?" He really knew nothing about fashion. "Which I suppose wasn't considered vintage at the time."

"It has that look to be sure, but the time periods don't match. And if you look closely," Sherlock indicated to a different screen. "That dress was purchased in London in 2013 from Urban Outfitters. Which would mean the woman in these pictures is the same one you spoke to today"

"You're not actually suggesting-"

"Time travel? Yes, certainly. Or perhaps astral projection, although it seems unlikely."

"Right, because time travel makes so much more sense."

"Once we have eliminated the impossible-"

"Yes I know, whatever remains must be the truth. But can't we rule out 'time travel' as something that's impossible?"

"For us certainly. But that's not to say that it will never be invented, and as soon as it is it becomes irrelevant when it actually began."

"Yes but think of the paradoxes and... Wait, is that what you think this all is, all of these women. Do you think it's the same woman moving through time?"

"No. These women have had full, distinct lives. They're something else all together."

"Something stranger than time travel?"

"Very likely."

John stared back down at the two photos, It wasn't just a Clara that was consistent in both shots, there was also a tall man with floppy hair, "Who's he?"

Sherlock looked almost proud, "I was wondering that myself. In both cases he's listed simply as "the Doctor", no name is given. He seemed relevant, so I used my remaining time to search him as well.

"And you found...?"

"Beyond these two images, nothing!" Any sensible investigator would be frustrated at this point, and yet Sherlock, who had an amazingly low tolerance for things that were 'boring', looked like a kid at Christmas. "This man doesn't appear to exist either."

"Another one?"

"Yes. Two impossible men, both in some way connected to these women. It's fantastic!"

John shook his head. He was afraid they wouldn't be able to find any answers for Harry. He never guessed the answers would lead them... well, wherever it was they were headed, "Do you think they know? About each other I mean?"

"I think she does," Sherlock reached in front of John and pulled out Clara Oswald's information.

"Because she's a time traveler, I suppose."

"Because she apologized." John probably knew Sherlock better than anyone on the planet, but sometimes even he was struck dumb in confusion. "When you thought she was your Clara. She apologized. Twice. Why? Your mistake was not her fault. Unless somehow it is. Unless she's somehow involved."

"That's a leap."

"Even still, it would be prudent to talk to her. Besides, she's the Clara geographically closest to us."

John stared at her picture. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see her again. He knew it would be painful, but where else were they to go with all of their questions? "Suppose you're right."

"Oh cheer up, John. We're about to meet an impossible girl."

**A/N** _I think Sherlock would be just as intrigued by the mystery of Clara as the Doctor was. Neither one can resist a puzzle. _


	4. Guilt

**Chapter 4 - Guilt**

"Are you sure this is the right address?" John asked, glancing around at the cosy, but elegant neighbourhood. "Looks at little out of the price range of a twenty something. Does she live here with her family."

"A family at the very least. She's the nanny."

John shook his head at the growing list of similarities, "Harry's Clara was a social worker. It's like they all ended up in positions of caring and compassion." Sherlock turned down a driveway. John followed him, but stopped abruptly when he saw... what he can only describe as a narrow, blue shed. "What's that?"

Sherlock turned around and looked rather delighted by the sight, "A police call box." He took a few steps towards it and reached up to run his hands along the window trim, "Actually a fake police telephone box. The dimensions are wrong."

John looked at him quizzically, "You know the proper dimensions of a police box?"

"Does that surprise you?" Sherlock asked, still examining the box.

"You don't even know the names of the planets in the solar system."

Sherlock rolled his eyes theatrically, "We've been over this. They are of no consequence."

"And these dimensions are?"

"There are several unsolved cases going back the last 50 years or so that involve a fake police box. Curious that there's one here. Regardless," he headed back for the door without a second glance.

Sherlock rang the bell and waited. There was a sound of commotion inside the house, and a woman's voice getting closer. Just as the door opened they heard, "Don't even think about pitching your vegetables. I know exactly how many I gave you." Sherlock noticed the house had a video intercom, but she threw the door open instead. "Hello?" she said uncertainly, surprise etched on her face. They were clearly not who she was expecting. It took her only a moment to place them, "You two? What can I help you with?" she had taken a defensive stance and was looking at them suspiciously.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my colleague Doctor John Watson."

"I've heard of you. Detectives, aren't you?"

"Quite right. We're here to ask you some questions, as you've probably surmised."

"'Course. I'll help anyway I can," she said it genuinely, and yet Sherlock could tell she was holding back, that something about the encounter had her worried.

"Have you ever seen this man before?" Sherlock handed her the picture of their first impossible man, the one who's life was saved.

Clara took the picture delicately and seemed almost reluctant to look down at it. When at last she did it was only for a moment, then she was meeting Sherlock's eyes, "Sorry, I've never seen him before in my life." It was a lie of course, but her face made it clear that it also contained some traces of the truth. Although how the statement could be both true and false, Sherlock didn't yet know. "What happened?" she tried to sound curious, but that didn't completely hide the dread from her voice.

"There was a car accident," was all Sherlock said. He wanted to gage her reaction. Mild concern, curiosity. Oh she was good. Only a mind like Sherlock's would have been able to pick up on the dilation of her pupils and the fear that was now quietly coursing through her. Sherlock let her sweat for a minute before adding, "this man would have been hit if a woman hadn't pushed him out of the way."

"My sister in-law," John said, his heart in his throat.

Sherlock passed Clara several of the pictures Harry gave him. She held the pictures in front of her, but once again, paused before looking at them. The shock upon seeing them was immediate and yet something was off. Surely a woman who was presented with pictures of an exact copy of herself would look over them carefully. Check for manipulation or try to find differences in the face. At the very least Sherlock expected on ordinary person to stare at the photos dumbfounded, but just as before, Clara looked at them quickly before handing them back. "This is who you mistook me for this morning," she looked right at John, her face filled with empathy. He merely nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. "I can see why you came here. She looks just like me. It's... it's bizarre. What happened to her?"

"She was killed," Sherlock noticed the woman's jaw tighten. She was trying her best to remain neutral but it wasn't hiding her guilt. "Why do you look guilty?"

"Excuse me?" There was force and attitude behind her remark, but Sherlock could tell it was posturing.

"You weren't in the car; you weren't at the scene. I can't think of any reason you would be connected to the accident unless it is through this man, but even that association wouldn't elicit guilt, so what is it? Did you know the woman?"

"No," Clara said, clearly taken aback.

"Did you know them?" He handed Clara another folder, but she didn't look inside. "Dozens of women with your face and I think you know why."

"I don't."

"You're lying."

"Okay, we're done here."

Clara began closing the door, but stopped as Sherlock called, "What about the Doctor, would he know?"

Clara turned back to face them and even John could see the total change in her demeanor. Up until now she had been standing in a defensive position, now she was ready for attack, "The Doctor doesn't live here," she said forcefully.

Sherlock seemed to dismiss this as trivial, "If you won't help us perhaps he will. Is he in?" Sherlock was goading her now.

"No," the air between them was thick with tension and neither one had broken eye contact since the mention of _the Doctor_.

"Well," Sherlock put on his most charming smile, "when he gets in he can reach me here," he held out a business card but Clara's hands remained at her side. "Please Ms. Oswald, a woman is dead."

"I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"Can't or won't?" Clara had already closed the door in his face.

"What happened to the 'effectiveness' of being kind?" John asked.

"She was never going to knowingly tell us," Sherlock turned around, but instead of walking back to the road he simply stared at the blue police box. Without a word of explanation he walked over to the box and tucked the business card into the top edge of the sign on the front.

"Why'd you do that?"

"A hunch," Sherlock adjusted his scarf and began walking up the street.

"Are you going to tell me about it?"

"Probably not."

"'Course not," John muttered to himself as they made their way back to a main road.


	5. A Visitor

**A/N** _Sorry, it's a short one, but it was a natural break or, I guess more accurately, a natural cliffhanger (well... as 'cliffhanger' as I seem to get). Thank you all for reading and all the positive feedback. I'm having a lot of fun with this story, and I'm glad the feeling seems to be mutual. I really want to finish before Christmas... we'll see how I do. I'm almost done the next chapter, so there won't be a long wait (my new epic commute does wonders for my productivity). _

**Chapter 5 - A Visitor**

John woke up the next morning with a stretch. It took him a groggy moment to remember what day it was... Monday he finally decided. Not that it mattered. Between shift work at the clinic and helping Sherlock the distinction between weekdays and weekends was almost irrelevant. He dressed slowly, giving no real thought to which jumper or trousers he chose. In the kitchen he made a pot of tea and started the coffee maker (Sherlock abhorred instant). Tea and a plate of toast in hand John made his way to the living room, but stopped abruptly just inside, "Sherlock?" he called.

"Yes, John?" he could hear Sherlock moving through the kitchen.

John stared directly in front of him as if not quite believing his eyes. Clara Oswald sat on their couch with a look akin to one sitting in a waiting room. "We have a visitor."

"Who?" Sherlock emerged from the kitchen coffee mug in hand and (much to John's horror) wrapped in only a sheet.

"You wearing any pants?" John whispered to his flatmate.

"No," it was clear Sherlock was intrigued by Clara's presence.

"Why don't you go put some on?" John hiss as quietly as possible.

"That'd be a good idea." Both men looked back at Clara who met their stares and showed no embarrassment over the situation or her comment. Shockingly Sherlock turned around and walked out of the room to change.

John stood there rather awkwardly, unsure which was stranger: Clara's presence or Sherlock's compliance. "You should take that as a compliment."

"The fact that he wasn't wearing pants?"

"No," he laughed, " the fact that he agreed to put them on so quickly. It took us much longer to convince him the last time, and we were in Buckingham Palace." The comment earned John a small smile, but it didn't last long. Clara's mind was clearly preoccupied with other matters.

Sherlock soon returned dressed in his usual white collar shirt and slacks. He stood just inside the living room, but made no move to sit down or approach Clara, "Well Ms. Oswald, you've certainly got our attention. Have you had a change of heart regarding our questions?"

"I need your help," she said it simply, with no shame or bruised ego. Certainly not with her tail between her legs.

"You were less than helpful yesterday. Why should we help you?"

"I've been reading the blog and I think I understand you, Mr. Holmes." Sherlock looked instantly offended at the thought of being _knowable_. Clara simply smirked, "You don't care a lick about money or celebrity. You like the unknown. You like a good mystery; a good story, and I guarantee you I have the best one in the universe."

"Does that mean you will answer my questions?"

"Any you want to ask."

Sherlock considered this, "And what do you want in return?"

"Your help locating a missing person."

"The Doctor?"

She coloured, "Yes." Sherlock looked thoughtful, but made no indication of his decision. "Will you help me, Mr. Holmes?" A small quiver in her voice.

"Why did you look guilty?"

"Because it was my fault, what happened to your Clara. At least in part."

"Which part?"

She was about to speak, but then held her tongue, searching for the right words, "I can't tell you that yet. It wouldn't make any sense, you really have to start at the beginning."

Sherlock smiled. He took a seat in his favourite chair and folded his hands together, "Well the by all means, Ms. Oswald, tell us your great mystery."


	6. The Case

**A/N**_ As I mentioned before, I came up with this story before seeing Day of the Doctor so it's slightly AU. Also, I don't want to touch the events of The Reichenbach Fall with a ten foot pole (that would just make this way too long). So imagine this story exists in a magical time right after Trenzalore and before the fall. And if that's a bit timey wimey so be it. _

**Chapter 6 - The Case**

"I used to be perfectly ordinary. Grew up with my mom and dad In Lancashire. Went to uni and afterwards planned to travel. That got a bit put on hold and I ended up looking after the children of a family friend."

"After their mother died," Sherlock prompted impatiently. He knew that part already.

She nodded, "One day I met the Doctor-"

"And he is?"

"Mad," she said with a grin. "And brilliant. Bit like you in that way, except nicer." John knew Sherlock's look of distaste was at the idea that anyone was like him (and not the idea of him being unkind). "He's also a time traveling alien."

"I knew it was time travel," Sherlock practically fist pumped the air.

"Now when you say alien... You don't mean that he's here illegally, do you?"

"Well Queen Victoria did banish him a while back, so technically." Clara chuckled at the baffled look on John's face. "He's an outer space sort of alien. He's called a Time Lord,"

Sherlock had rested his fingers against his lips in thought, "Is he able to manipulate his form, then? Can he shape shift or alter our perception?"

"Nah, that's just the way he looks. Goofy hair and all."

"But he looks... human," confusion was very apparent in John's voice.

"He'd say you look Time Lord," she smiled to herself as she described him.

"And they're just the same as us?"

"More or less. Well, I mean there are some differences. Two hearts. 27 brains. Although that last one might be a bit exaggerated. They're clever at any rate. And by that I mean vastly intelligent."

"And what do you _do_ with the Doctor? Who are you to him?"

"I'm his companion." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "We're friends."

At that he nearly scoffed, "A highly advanced alien, who can travel through space and time unimpeded. What need would he have of a 21th century human?"

"_Every lonely monster needs a companion_. Doesn't matter how brilliant you are, having someone in your life, someone you care about is certainly better than sitting around talking to yourself," she glanced over at John as if he was further proof. "And as for what the Doctor and I do... Well, we save the world."

Sherlock snorted, "The whole world?"

"Sometimes. Or a distant one. Sometimes we've ended up saving the entire universe, or just fixing somebody's day."

John glanced at Sherlock nervously. A look of boredom had appeared, and that never boded well, "All that mystery and the two of you are little more than comic book heroes? Time Man and the Impossible Girl."

Clara's eyes seemed to glow for a moment, although John couldn't figure out why. He was concerned she would be offended by Sherlock's dismissive tone. "The saving part, that's never the point. It's not like we go looking for it. We just go on holiday, and then one thing leads to another and..."

"You save everyone."

"Yup, that's what we do. Just through all of time and space."

"Yes, yes, fascinating. But you still haven't answered my question." John did his best to suppress a laugh, only Sherlock could be unimpressed by stories of aliens and time travel.

Clara simply took it in stride, "There was this... bad guy. He was after the Doctor and he..." she looked lost for words. After taking a moment to work out how to say the next part she continued, "Imagine there was a door into your life; into everything single moment in your life, and imagine somebody could walk through it."

"That's impossible," Sherlock said, but he certainly didn't look bored anymore.

"When speaking of the Doctor it's best to take "impossible" as a given. This, _entity_ was able to enter the Doctor's life at every moment."

"To what end?"

"To destroy him," she looked away for a moment. "This _man_ he wasn't corporeal. So when he entered the Doctor's life he materialized in every moment of it."

"To hurt him?"

"He couldn't interact with the Doctor physically, but he could distract him at the wrong time, bring about his death, and along with it... Well like I said, the Doctor is the savour of worlds. Without him... there wouldn't be too much left of the universe. So..."

"You saved him." It wasn't often that John reached a conclusion before Sherlock, but this one didn't surprise Sherlock at all. Of course John figured it out, he would have done exactly the same thing in Clara's place. Clara simply nodded. "How?"

"I jump into the Doctor's life too. But since I'm human I didn't just appear at different points, I was born, I lived, and-"

"Died," Sherlock finished.

"Yes," Clara said softly, looking down at the floor. "I had no memory of my real life or the Doctor or any of the others. I just lived. Until our paths crossed, until I reached one of those moments, and then I couldn't help it, I would save him, even of it meant sacrificing myself."

Sherlock took this all in, weighing the validity, working through the logic. Finally he asked, "How did you survive?"

"The Doctor saved me. He came in after me." Sherlock's brow furled, as he tried to work out the paradoxes of an act like that. "I know it's impossible. To be honest I don't quite understand it myself, but he saved me. We saved each other."

"But all the other Clara's, they'll die saving him."

"Most of them, yes. That's why I feel guilty. When I jumped, I only thought about him. I never considered what it would mean for them."

"That's not why," Clara raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, "You feel guilty because, given the option, you would make the same choice again."

"In a second."

John barely heard this last exchange. He was lost in thought. It was a lot to take in, but something was bothering him. Something she said just didn't make sense (well, even more than aliens and time travel). "The Doctor, he's the goofy one with all the hair?" Clara nodded. "But that's not the man my Clara saved. It was the other one," he hunted through their piles of paper for the picture in question, "the one with the coat."

"That's... that's him too. Time Lords have this trick to... well, cheat death. It's called regeneration. If they're about to die they can... change."

"Change?"

"Every cell in their body."

"So he'd look different?"

"Not just look. He would act differently too. Different personality, but still the same essence. The same soul if you want to think about it like that. He's always the Doctor."

"Has he done that a lot?" John asked, "this changing business?"

"Ten times. Well, eleven. The man your Clara saved was his last regeneration."

"Have you known them all?"

"I've seen them all, during some life or another, but as me I've only known this most recent one. My Doctor." The possessive adjective did not go unnoticed.

"And he is now missing?"

She nodded solemnly, once again taking a moment to figure out how to explain it, "After Trenzalore, that's where all of this happened, it was just so obvious where I was suppose to be. But I had responsibilities to look after. I told the Doctor I needed a week to pack up my stuff and find the children a new nanny. I said he could just skip ahead to the end or go off on an adventure, but he decided to stay here."

"You sound surprised."

"He's like a five year old, he can't sit still for 30 seconds, much less 7 days, but he did surprisingly well. Yesterday he left in the morning. Said he had to run an errand and would be back by the evening."

"You thought we were him."

"Yes. That's about when he should have arrived. I figured he wouldn't be late this time because we were suppose to leave today."

"Is he often late?"

"He can be..."

"Well maybe he just got caught up saving the future," John said encouragingly.

"It's a time machine, John. He could go off for years and still return 10 seconds later."

"But he didn't take the TARDIS. That's his time machine. It's still parked outside the house. That blue police box, the one you stuck your card to."

Sherlock's eyes went wide, his mind suddenly reevaluating several old cases.

"It's only been twelve hours," John observed, "he may have just been delayed."

"I've got somebody keeping an eye out for him," Clara was interrupted by the sound of a cell phone on vibrate, "and that might be her now. "Angie, is he back?"

"You can say hello, you know. And no, your boyfriend's still missing. I'm headed to school so I left him a note to call you. It's taped to the TARDIS."

"Thanks Ang."

"That's not why I called."

"Oh yeah?"

"You've got to come back. The woman you've hired is stupid."

"You say that about everyone."

"But she is! She doesn't know how to make proper oatmeal or the correct way to load the dishwasher."

"Angie it's the morning of her first day, she'll learn."

"I don't want her to learn, I want you back!"

"Angela Maitland, we've been through this already. Besides, you didn't like me either."

"Yes I did. Eventually."

"And you'll like her too. Now I have to go, and you need to get to school. Call me if you hear from the Doctor."

Clara hung up the phone and found John and Sherlock staring at her. "Was... was that a child?" John asked. "You've left a time traveling space ship in the care of a child?"

"She's just watching over it. Couldn't get in even if she wanted to. It's sealed itself up. Stupid cow," she muttered the last bit under her breath.

Sherlock closed his eyes in concentration, trying to assemble all of the pieces of the case. At last he spoke, "Ms. Oswald, you've given us almost nothing to work with."

"Isn't that when you shine?" she challenged with a small smile.

"Very well."

"You'll take the case?"

"I suppose so."

Clara look delighted, but moments later her face fell, "You will need help, though."

"Help?" Sherlock looked offended.

"With the alien side. Deductive reasoning in this case will only take us so far. There are knowledge and resources that we just don't have."

"Who does?" Sherlock asked, seeing the rationality of her concern.

Clara considered the question carefully, "U.N.I.T. does. They would have all sorts of staff and equipment and would surely help us. But I worry they would take over the case entirely and push us out."

"Unacceptable. Who else?"

"There's Martha Jones and Mickey Smith. They use to travel with the Doctor and are completely loyal. But they run a rather small operation, I worry they wouldn't have access to the same resources."

"We need another option."

Clara's face was lined in concentration when it suddenly came to her, "Torchwood!"

"Torchwood?"

"It's a group of... alien hunters, for lack of a better word, under the leadership of Captain Jack Harkness. He used to travel with the Doctor, too. I'm sure he'd help however he could."

"How do we get in contact with him?" John asked.

"They monitor most communications, the right string of words would certainly get their attention."

"Then can't we just say, 'hey Torchwood, we need your help finding the Doctor'?" Both Clara and Sherlock looked at John as if he had grown two heads.

"They're not the only people listening. What we need is a message only they will understand."


	7. The Message

**A/N** _One of the things that was keeping me from writing this story was that I wanted to use Jack but didn't know how Torchwood ended. I'm finally finished and as it turns out, this dysfunctional trio are incredibly fun to write._

**Chapter 7 - The Message**

"You call this pizza?!" Rex complained, practically spitting out his first bite.

"It's crust, tomato sauce, and cheese. What more do you want?" Gwen asked through a full mouth.

"Pizza! And to be clear, if we're talking about pizza it's to-mA-to sauce, not to-MAT-o sauce. How did I let you two talk me into moving to Cardiff?"

"Because for immortals like us it's good to have a place to lay low," Jack said with a wink.

"If I have to spend eternity in Wales I will find a way to kill myself."

"Always so cheery." Their bickering was interrupted by an unfamiliar beeping.

"What's that now?" Rex asked, wiping his face and following the sound, Gwen was only a step behind him.

"Sounds like the BUGS system," Jack called over to them.

"What's that then, the British United Global Search?"

Gwen was staring at the screen. "It's not an acronym it's a joke. It's Jack's Doctor detector." Rex stared at her without comprehension. "Oh come on. You're American. It's Bugs Bunny. Ahhh what's up, Doc?" She added with an appallingly bad impersonation.

Rex simply shook his head and then turned to Jack, "The Doctor, that's your old time travel buddy?"

"That's the one. He tries to keep a low profile (or goes back to delete all record of his actions). If the BUGS is going off something is definitely up. What's it found?"

Gwen's eyes scan through a couple of pages before looking back at Jack, "A blog," there was almost disapproval in her voice.

"Read it to me."

_The Personal Blog of Doctor John H. Watson_

_The Doctor Dances_

_How do I even begin to describe our new case? Well it started with a Union Jack and a barrage balloon and feels like it's taken us to the end of the universe and back. We've been putting in so many hours it's like we've lived a year that never was. The worst part has been our attempt at undercover. How could we ever have thought we'd fit in at a socialite's ball? Sherlock is still teasing me by occasionally muttering the phrase, "so the doctor dances."_

"Does that mean anything to you two? It seemed pretty innocuous."

"That's because the message was meant for me," Jack crossed the room and stared over Gwen's shoulder. "So who is John Watson?"

"Isn't he a detective, works with what's his name?"

"Sherlock Holmes!" Gwen finished with an almost fan girl squeal. "Drop dead gorgeous, he is."

Jack still looked confused. "See this is what happens when you go charging around the galaxy," Rex said with a laugh, "you miss everything. Don't worry you'll like him. Tall, dark, and handsome. Just your type."

"Everyone's his type. Haven't you learned that by now."

Jack was busy typing in the contact number from the website, but took a moment to wink at Rex before bringing the phone to his ear. He heard a man say hello and responded, "Is this Doctor John Watson? I hear you've been looking for me."

"Actually Captain, that was me," came a young, and decidedly female voice.

"Who are you?"

"A traveler, like yourself. We have a friend in common. He needs your help."


	8. All About Clara

**A/N** _Oh it's coming together now. Not too much left to go. Thanks for reading!_

**Chapter 8 - All About Clara**

A natural silence had fallen over the trio at 221b Baker Street as Clara composed the blog post. Both Sherlock and John watched her write it. John didn't have a clue what she was on about, but he knew that was the point, that only this Captain Harkness would be able to understand it. With the post finished Clara closed the laptop and simply sat back on the couch. Her body language returning to the way she had looked earlier that morning; as though she was patiently waiting for an appointment.

Sherlock seemed lost to himself. He mostly stared off into space and occasionally referred to information on his phone. John watched them with growing impatience, until he finally broke the silence, "So... what are we doing now exactly?"

"Waiting for Jack."

"Who's in Cardiff?"

"He'll be here soon."

At last Sherlock looked up from his phone, "The next flight from Cardiff leaves at 10:25. Factoring in flight time and his trip from the airport the captain will arrive no earlier than three-o-clock. You have implied that this is a matter of some urgency, therefore it is only rational that we begin without him."

"Don't worry Mr. Holmes, he'll be here any second."

As if on cue Jack materialized right in the middle of the living room. The captain flashed Sherlock his most charming grin and without missing a beat said, "Captain Jack Harkness. And who are you?"

"Stop it." Jack spun around to face Clara. "That's what the Doctor would tell you, anyways."

"Clever, sassy, and drop dead gorgeous. You must be his new companion."

"Clara Oswald," she extended her hand.

Jack took it gently and kissed it, "It is a pleasure." He turned back to Sherlock, clearly looking to continue where he'd left off, "and I take it you are the great Sherlock Holmes?" Sherlock gave the smallest of nods and took Jack's extended hand. Jack kissed Sherlock's hand too, and lingered a touch longer than he had with Clara. John cleared his throat. Jack looked up and noticed him for the first time. "The good ones are always taken. You must be Doctor John H. Watson."

"Yes... that's me. What was the first thing you said?" John did his best to quickly shake Jack's hand and spare himself a kiss.

"Sorry for the delay. Had to get the time vortex manipulator out of storage. Once I cracked the code it wasn't exactly something I wanted to have lying around. So where's the Doctor?"

"That is the question."

* * *

Clara did her best to fill Jack in on the situation. John was glad they had already heard the story because he doubted he would have been able to follow it otherwise. The two seemed to be able to speak in a sort of short hand and used all kinds of names and terms that John didn't know.

Sherlock listen intently to the retelling, noting which parts were said verbatim, what was omitted, and what new information Clara shared.

For how exuberantly Jack entered their flat, he was surprisingly still while he listened to the tale, only occasionally stopping to ask a question. That is until Clara told him about her last week. "Wait, the Doctor just stayed here?"

"Yeah," she said, her face mirroring his surprise.

"What did he do? How'd you ever keep him entertained?"

"He helped me pack, played with the kids, upgraded most of the technology in the house."

Jack was shaking his head completely baffled, "He really has changed."

"So you don't know this version then?" John asked. He thought that's what he had gleamed, but he wanted to be sure.

"I knew the last two. Great men. Good looking too, but neither of them could do domestic. They couldn't sit still for the length of a pop song."

"Tell me about it. The Doctor gets bored with ads on the telly."

Jack laughed at that, "We once tried to take the ninth version of him to the movies. It was the 46th century, fully immersive 4D. He didn't make it through a trailer." Clara was laughing now too, a knowing look on her face. They were very clearly talking about the same man. "But this time he chose to stay? Even though you offered him an out."

"Heck I encouraged him to bugger off. Figured if he stayed I'd spend most of my time looking after him. But he really was fine. Maybe he's just getting older."

By the look on Jack's face he clearly didn't think that was the explanation. In his mind he ran through the information again before asking, "What you wrote in the post, how did you know about all of that?"

"He told me."

"He told you about me?" Jack looked baffled again, "About the Blitz? Utopia? The Master?" Clara nodded. "He's never been one to open up about his past," Jack was staring intently at Clara, trying to figure her out.

"He's really not."

"So what makes you so special?"

"Not special, just... impossible," she smiled to herself for a moment before continuing, "I still remember some of the lives I lived. Some pieces anyway. Usually the moments when we crossed paths, so I started asking him about them, and he's actually been answering my questions. Telling me stories from his life." There was a glow to her neither Jack or Sherlock missed. In fact, the two of them glanced at each other knowingly. "What's that look for?"

"Yeah, do you two mind filling the rest of us in?" John said impatiently.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock asked in his condescending way.

"It's all about Clara," Jack continued, clearly on the same page.

"Me?"

Sherlock went on before she could object, "He said he was running an 'errand', but he didn't tell you what is was."

"No, but that's not so unusual. You know the Doctor," she said to Jack, "he's not really big on sharing."

"But he is big on company. Wouldn't he normally take you?"

"Yes, but-"

"Especially with your trip only one day off."

"Maybe it was something that had to happen that day?" John ventured.

"He has a time machine, John. He could always go back to that day."

"Well that will always be true, wouldn't it?" John countered, "What could he possibly need in that place and time?"

"Good question. Nothing. But then the errand wasn't for him. You're forgetting the point."

"Which is?" John asked, as he tried to contain his frustration.

"It's all about Clara," Jack repeated, looking smug. "He didn't take you along, because he was getting something for you."

"So if we're to find the Doctor all we have to do is determine what it is you need."

All eyes turned to Clara. She looked between them in disbelieve, "This is ridiculous. You make it sound like... the Doctor and I, we're just friends."

"Come now, Ms. Oswald, you're more clever than that. Your Doctor may well be in danger. What would he get you? What do you need?"

"Nothing," she said insistently. "I'm about to travel through all of time and space. What could I possibly need that we couldn't find anywhere else in the universe?"

"Something... sentimental," Sherlock proposed, his mind running through the possibilities, "Something bound to this time and place..."

"A person," John said simply.

"Yes of course!" Sherlock looked over at him with pride. "But not one of the Doctor's people, is it? He doesn't sound like the 'down memory lane' type."

"No, he's really not," Jack agreed.

"So Ms. Oswald, what about your people?"

* * *

"Hi Dad," Clara said into the receiver, trying to hide the frustration from her voice. She knew this was pointless.

"Clarabear, I thought you'd be off by now. Didn't think I'd get a call too."

"Too? What else did you get?"

"A visit from your bloke. The young man you're traveling with. What's his name... John Smith, wasn't it?"

"The Doctor came to see you?" she spluttered. Three pairs of eyes stared up at her (you, fair reader, can guess which one looked smug).

"Oh that's right, that's his nick name, isn't it? Yes he was here just yesterday."

"Why?" Clara hadn't quite processed what she was hearing.

"Said he was in the neighbourhood. Wanted to let me know you'd be safe. And he gave me the number I could reach you at. Said I could reach you anywhere in the universe. He's a bit fanciful, isn't he? Nice though. I quite liked him."

"When did he leave?"

"Oh, I'd say just before 5. He was trying to catch the 5:30 train. I offered to drive him to the station, but he said he preferred to walk. Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Clara said, absorbing everything she'd just been told. "I'll talk to you soon, Dad," she hung up before he could offer a 'bon voyage'. "The Doctor was at my father's place yesterday afternoon."

"You know what this means," Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

Jack simply smiled, "We're off to Lancashire."

**A/N** _When I said there were 'hints' of Doctor/Clara and John/Sherlock, what I really meant was Jack would be the one hinting (how could I resist, it's Jack). _


	9. Kind

**Chapter 9 - Kind**

"I still don't see why we couldn't just travel by your bracelet thing," Sherlock grumbled as he settled himself into a rear-facing seat.

"Sorry, Princess, only works for one. It looks like we're suck on the slow path. Although, come to think of it, don't you have a time machine?" he asked Clara as he helped her store her coat in the overhead compartment.

"Sealed herself up tight. Stupid cow."

Jack just laugh, "Yeah she doesn't like me much either. Not too fond of us impossible types."

That caught John's attention, "Clara I get, but what makes you impossible?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Jack said in his most sultry voice.

"I just think," Sherlock said as if there had been no interruption, "that a case involving aliens and individuals from the future would at least allow us too-"

"Skip the train?" Jack asked, "Apparently not."

"Very well," Sherlock pulled out a sleeping mask and rested his head against the window. Within a few minutes his breathing slowed. Fast asleep before they'd even left the station.

It was still quite early in the day and John was in no way tired, "So Jack, how did you meet the Doctor?"

"Well it's just as she said, started with a Union Jack and a barrage balloon," he laughed at the memory of Rose Tyler dangling over London. 'Jeopardy friendly' was right. "Actually, I first met the Doctor during the London Blitz. I was trying to con him. Didn't have a clue who he was, thought he was a Time Agent. I had a bit of a beef with them back in the day and needed the cash."

"So how did you ever end up traveling with him?"

"Well my plan went a little awry. Sort of turned a bunch of Londoners into gas mask zombies."

"Gas mask zombies?! I can't tell anymore when you two are just making things up."

"No, no. That's the truth," Clara confirmed.

"What happened?"

"What usually happens. The Doctor saved the day. With a bit of help from his friends."

"He saved everyone from the zombies?"

Clara smiled, remembering how the story ended, _'just this once, everybody lives'_. Jack clarified, "No he save the zombies too."

"How?"

"With a mother's love. So very the Doctor."

"Wait, but after all of that he let you travel with him?"

"More than that, he saved my life. I mean I did help with the zombies, sort of redeem myself, you know. I'm not really a bad guy. But that's the thing about the Doctor, he'll do the right thing, no question."

Clara was nodding in agreement, "Everywhere we go, if there's something wrong he'll stay and help. Never a thought of running away. Doesn't even occur to him. He's just... kind."

"Always?" John asked, trying to wrap his head around all of the different versions of the Doctor.

"Well some of them are a little rougher around the edges," Jack said with a chuckle, "but it's the same heart. Same man. And yeah, he's always kind."

John saw Sherlock open one eye for a second and then immediately close it. _Eavesdropping_, he should have guessed.

* * *

"Clara?" Dave Oswald looked positively delighted to find his daughter at the door. Whisking her into a hug he added, "This is a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?" he looked up and noticed the three men standing behind her. "Hello?"

"Dad, these are my friends: Jack Harkness, Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson."

Dave shook each hand in turn, "I've read about you boys. The detectives, right? And do you work with them as well?" he asked Jack.

"Similar field. May we come in?"

"Oh of course, of course. Isn't your fella here? John Smith?"

"Actually Dad, that's why we came. The Doctor didn't come back last night. We haven't been able to reach him and we're worried. We thought maybe we could ask you a few questions."

"Of course," he looked instantly concerned on his daughter's behalf and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"How long was he here yesterday?" Sherlock asked, jumping right to the task at hand.

"Oh about an hour or so."

"How did he seem? Was he acting strangely? Distracted?"

"He... well it's hard to say, having never met the man before. He was a bit strange, but I think that might just of have been his usual demeanor. Does he often seem gangly and uncoordinated, and flails his arms about wildly when he talks?"

"That'd be him."

"Otherwise he seemed happy. Excited about the trip. Always a big grin on his face, especially when he was talking about you," he wink at his daughter, and nobody missed her blush.

"What did the two of you talk about?"

"Oh this and that. I served him some tea. Swapped Clara stories. Said you were a big hit with his friends up in Yorkshire, that the two of you had gone a mini-break there not too long back. And I told him I was glad you were finally putting yourself first for once, and doing what you loved. It was a perfectly pleasant afternoon and just before five he left to catch the train, he said he didn't want to keep you waiting. Have you tried calling his mobile?"

"He doesn't have one. He's a bit old... school."

"The walk to the train station, Clara knows the way, I take it?" Sherlock asked.

"'Course."

"Very well, thank you for your time, we must be off." John shot Sherlock a look, "Inappropriate? Insensitive?" he muttered so that only John could hear.

"Just a bit."

"Sorry," he searched for the right words (the _polite_ words). "I suggest we follow the same path the Doctor took." Turning to Clara he added, "I realize you may want to speak to your father further. We will wait for you outside." He glanced at John to insure he had adequately made amends.

* * *

The trio were not kept waiting long. After a quick goodbye Clara joined them on the front porch. "I don't know why he would have come here."

"Well, visiting the in-laws is customary in most cultures, perhaps even alien ones." Clara shot Sherlock a glare and started walking in the direction of the train station (at Sherlock's request they had taken a cab to her father's house).

"So what would distract the Doctor?" Sherlock asked the group.

"Just about anything," Clara said with a laugh, trying desperately to keep in good spirits, "He's like a bird, fluttering off after something shiny."

"But enough to delay him, no I don't think so."

"If, as you say, he has enemies, he could have had a run in with one of them," John suggested, "Or perhaps been lured into a trap. Can that happen?"

"Doubt it. He'd probably see the trap coming. Although he might walk into it anyway to see what would happen."

John thought back to his first case with Sherlock. Clara wasn't lying when she said they were alike.

"But would he go off on an adventure while you waited at home?" Sherlock prodded, "I doubt it. If he was that interested he would have picked you up. It's like your father said, he didn't want to keep you waiting. No, there's only one thing that would delay him."

"What's that?" John asked.

"Someone in need," Jack answered, as all four of them noticed the police tape and flashing lights surrounding a Sainsbury's, "Well, I think we've come to the right place."

The group walked up to an officer who was taking statements from passers by. "What happened here?" John asked.

"Haven't you heard? A little girl was abducted. A man just walked in off the street and left with her."

"And no one stopped him?" Clara asked, knowing that's what the Doctor was likely doing at that moment.

"No ma'am. Just stood by and stared." Clara made a face, trying to figure it out.

"When did the abduction take place?" Sherlock asked.

"Last night at 5:04 pm. Were you in the area then? Perhaps you saw something?"

He held up a page with two pictures on it. One of a man picking up a six year old girl, the other a magnified image of the perpetrators face. "That can't be," Clara said, glancing between the photo and the three men. The picture was unmistakably the Doctor.


	10. He Hesitates

**A/N** _Bit of a delay. Christmas festivities and the like. Apparently I didn't meet the Christmas Special deadline, but I am almost done._

**Chapter 10 - He Hesitates**

As it turned out more than a few of the inspectors were big fans of the blog and gladly accepted Sherlock's help on the case. The lead DI led the group up to the shop's security booth and played the footage. In the video the Doctor entered through the front doors, made a beeline for the girl, picked her up under his arm, and left so quickly and with so much purpose no one quite knew how to react until it was too late. "Eerie, ain't it?" the detective inspector asked, glancing towards Sherlock for approval, "like he came in just for her."

"Clearly. Where's the other tape?"

"Other..."

"This is the footage from inside the store. There's a camera out front facing the road. Show me that footage."

"Right, of course," the man fumbled with the controls but managed to find the right spot. "It's like he sees her and he just can't resist."

Sherlock stood up, "Yes, very good deduction detective inspector, now if you'll excuse us, my team and I would like to go over the evidence on our own," as Sherlock spoke he was not very subtly walking the man to the door.

"Of course, if you need anything..."

"We know who to call," Sherlock shut the door.

"I know how it looks, but the doctor wouldn't hurt anyone, much less a child."

"Obviously," Sherlock returned to his seat in front of the computer and played the clip again, "I mean just look at him. He's practically bouncing down the street, big goofy grin on his face, just as your father said. Happy, excited, headed home to his Clara." Clara chose to ignore the comment. "And then something catches his eye," Sherlock freezes the footage, the Doctor is looking to his left, something has grabbed his attention. His smile is gone. He stares right at the Sainbury's, presumably through the large front windows. "Now, watch what he does next." The Doctor turned back in the direction he was going, even took a step forward before stopping an looking back at the store window. After a moment's consideration he walks towards the store.

"He hesitates?" John offers, without a guess as to why that's relevant.

"Yes. Why? I think it's safe to assume this girl, and possibly others, are in danger and that's why the Doctor has intervened," the others nodded. "The Doctor doesn't exactly seem like a hesitate in the face of danger type. If this was the end of the world he would have acted immediately. Likewise with a large loss of life. So it's something smaller. What's small enough that he'd rather come home to you, or would at least consider it? Personal injury? A single death?"

"There's no such thing as 'small enough' to ignore, with the Doctor. He would help," Jack said with certainty, "besides, he'd know Clara would understand."

"I think you're exactly right," that caught the group a little off guard. "So then why does he hesitate?" Sherlock looked right at Clara as he asked this. She met his gaze, but said nothing, so Sherlock continued, "He just waltzes in there and takes the child, not really his style, is it?"

Even though he again directed the question to Clara she remained silent. Jack answered instead, "No, he usually does a lot of talking. I think that's the Doctor's first strategy, see if he could talk his way out of it."

"There may not have been time," John pointed out.

"Quite right. Though it still seem strange that he would make a spectacle of himself, what with how hard he works to keep a low profile. Deletes himself from history, didn't you say? Funny that he would allow there to be so many witnesses to this act," once again Sherlock looked at Clara. Her face was a mix of understanding, fear, and denial, but he knew she was clever enough to have reached the same conclusion. "Unless he was no longer concerned with this face."

"Don't say it," Clara warned. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her voice was ice cold.

"He's enjoying this body, isn't he? Had it for a while? Giving it up might give him pause." Clara continued to glare at him.

"Sherlock you're reaching," John warned.

"Besides, how does that theory help us? What we need to know is what the Doctor saw and where he went with the girl," Jack added, trying to deflate the tension between Sherlock and Clara.

"That's true," Sherlock turned back to the monitor and watched the interior footage again. "Are there aliens who can take over a person? Impersonate them or control their bodies, perhaps?"

"Yes..." Jack answered uncertainly, watching the footage for anything that could prompt that question.

Sherlock put the recording back to the beginning, "Watch the child."

"She looks terrified," John said with sympathy.

"Obviously. What else?"

"This isn't show and tell. We are running out of time. If you know something tell us." There was a fire in Clara. She was not to be crossed. Sherlock liked that.

"She is terrified. But she never once looks at her mother. A six year old child, snatched away, I can understand her being too afraid to scream, but any child would look to their mother. She has either been replaced or taken over by an alien. Perhaps our alien expert could tell us which one."

All eyes turned to Jack. He smiled his charming grin, "Already working on it. I told my team to meet us in Lancashire. Sent them over to the girl's house a little while ago," His mobile rang, "and that will be our answer now." He answered the phone and after a rather short exchange he was staring at Sherlock, shaking his head, obviously impressed. That look however was soon replaced by a worried one. After hanging up the phone he said, "It's an Yksin. They're sort of like large, space insects. As larva they take over a host and use it as an incubator. Takes about 72 hours for the creature to gestate. When it's close the creature releases erillinen waves, they're almost like telepathic pheromones."

"To attract others?" Sherlock asked.

"No, they're a completely individual species, all offsprings are clones. The pheromones are just a chemical byproduct and the little girl's house was swimming in them."

"So the creature's almost grown up. What happens to the child when it's done?" Clara asked, fairly sure she knew, but hoping for a different answer.

"It will emerge, killing her in the process. Based on the levels of erillinen waves at the house it could have happened at any point last night." Clara looked worried.

"And the Doctor," Sherlock began, "would he be able to detect these 'pheromones'?"

"I believe so."

"Did he kill it then? Can you destroy the alien thing without hurting the girl?" John asked, trying to sound more optimistic than he felt.

Jack shook his head, "Once they're linked you can't kill one without killing the other."

"Is it dangerous when it emerges? Was the Doctor protecting others by taking the girl away?"

"Unlikely. The bug might lash out if it really felt threatened, but mostly they just fly away. They don't even release their offspring until they've entered a different solar system."

"Then why does the Doctor even bother? He took the girl, clearly he thought he could help her. He must have had some solution," Sherlock went over the information again in his head, what were they missing?

Jack was doing the same; his faced was lined in concentration. Suddenly his head shot up, "I know what he's doing," he glanced down at Clara. Her arms were still folded across her chest protectively. The pained look on her face told him that she'd already figured it out. "If the creature felt threatened it would find a new host."

"Would that reset the gestation?" John asked.

"No," Jack said solemnly, "but it would save the girl."

Sherlock looked between Clara and Jack, "By killing the Doctor."


	11. Another Way

**Chapter 11 - Another Way**

"Where would the Doctor go?" Sherlock asked as the four of them walked out of the shop. "He left in this direction. He would need a route away from people and CCTV, and some place nearby to hide away," Sherlock based his path on these criteria; the others followed close behind.

"Why didn't the creature just make the girl run away?" John asked Jack.

"Right now it's just a passenger. At the moment it emerges its consciousness blends with the host and it will have some control, but up until then it is just along for the ride."

Both John and Clara looked confused and were about to voice their objections, but were interrupted by Sherlock, "Strangulation or drowning."

"What's that?" John asked, stating what the others were thinking.

"Well I'm assuming the switch will only work if the creature thinks its life is threatened. The Doctor would have to threaten the child's life in a way that was slow and easily controlled, strangulation or drowning are the best options."

"He wouldn't do that!"

"Never going to happen!" Clara and Jack said, almost in unison.

"He'd never do that to a child."

"Not even to save her life?" Sherlock stared down at Clara. It was a question, not a challenge. Two days on the case and he was still figuring out exactly who the Doctor was.

"He'd find another way," Clara said with confidence.

Just then something caught Sherlock's eye, "Clara Oswald, I do believe you are right," Sherlock turned off the main road towards a mechanics. "Can we assume that with his two hearts the Doctor has a more advance cardiovascular system then we do?"

"Much," Jack replied.

"Therefore he wouldn't be as susceptible to carbon monoxide poisoning."

"It could maybe do him some damage, but it would take a long time, significantly longer than it would for a human."

There was a light in John's eyes, he suddenly understood what Sherlock was getting at, "Carbon monoxide poisoning is painless, the victim simply falls asleep."

"And," Sherlock drew their attention to the sign out front, "this garage is closed on Sundays."

* * *

With the luck they'd had so far, Sherlock assumed the mere mention of his name would easily gain them access, but the young man behind the counter simply stared at him blankly, and asked innocently, "What's a consulting detective? Are you with the police?" Fortunately luck was still on their side. The young man took one look at Clara and simply beamed. They had gone to *high school* together and, as the mechanic put it, "I never would've passed my maths without Clara. She's a brilliant teacher." He was happy to help Clara and her friends with whatever they needed.

"Was there a break in yesterday evening?" The young man looked apprehensive. "There was, then?"

"Not a break in, not really. There'd been no forced entry and nothing was taken, it's just... The other lads think I'm mad, but one of the old clunkers is in a different place than we left it Saturday. I swear."

"Can you show us?"

The mechanic led the group to one of the two garages. An old Ford Fiesta was up on the lift, other than that the room was unremarkable.

Sherlock looked around the ceiling, "Tell me, do you have CCTV in this building?"

"Not inside, no. We do have a camera outside. It just points at the doors. Would that help?"

"Immensely."

* * *

The mechanic hooked the CCTV footage up to the small television in the office, before returning to the garage, rightly guessing they would like to view the footage alone. Sherlock set the tape to 5:05 and waited. Within a few moments the Doctor came into view. The little girl was tucked under his arm and was surprisingly still. They watched as he took out his sonic screwdriver, opened the garage door, and stepped inside. Sherlock skipped ahead. At 5:52 the door opened for a second time. The girl walked out followed by an older man of about 50. The girl waited as he closed the door and together they walked to the street.

"She's alive," John said with relief. "Did it work then? Is that the new Doctor?"

All eyes turned to Clara. She was still staring at the screen, "I don't know," she said at last.

"Yes you do," John recognized that tone, it was Sherlock trying to be kind, "you're the only person who has known all of him, all of his faces, all of his selves. Look at him Clara. The Doctor, your Doctor, is it him?"

A tear slid down Clara's cheek. Her eyes still on the screen, "Yes."

Jack's jaw was set tight. He never knew this Doctor, but that didn't make his death any more pleasant. Besides, there was something else weighing on his mind.

"I'm sorry Clara," John said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"If we're right, his plan worked. Saved the day again," Jack said, but his heart wasn't in it. They were all silent for a long moment, whether in grief or sympathy.

Surprisingly it was John and not Sherlock who broke the silence, "Why is she still missing?" Everyone looked up at him, unsure of what he was asking. "All that happened last night. If the Doctor's plan worked and the girl is fine, why hasn't she turned up yet?"

"Would she need additional medical care?"

"I don't think so," Jack said, looking puzzled.

John was staring at the freeze frame of the Doctor and the girl walking away together, "She looks pretty comfortable with him now."

"You're right," Sherlock glanced over John's shoulder at the screen, "Look at her, she feels in no way coerced or threatened. If anything she is looking at him protectively."

"She's looking at him...?" Clara sounded as if she had been called back to reality from a dream. Something about what Sherlock said had jogged her memory. "But she didn't look at..." Suddenly her head shot up, "Her mother. We thought it was the alien, but in the shop it had no control of the girl. She was the one who didn't look at her mother."

Sherlock's whole face lit up, "Of course. You truly are brilliant, I can see why he likes you."

"You two care to fill the rest of us in?" Jack asked in mild frustration.

"We need to speak to the girl's mother. And I may need to borrow one of your alien devices."


	12. Always Kind

**A/N** _Nearly there. One more chapter to go (or one and an epilogue, we'll see how it goes). Thank you all for reading. Let me know what you think so far. Oh and Happy New Year._

**Chapter 12 - Always Kind**

Sherlock insisted that he and John speak to the mother alone. Clara was passed the point of objecting, she simply waited on the front porch with Jack, rarely speaking, lost to her own thoughts. When at last she did look up at Jack he looked as far away as she felt. "What is it?" She asked, "I know you and the Doctor were close, but there's something else on your mind, I can tell."

He smiled slightly at being so easily read, "I was thinking about the Yksin, how it would have burned up in the regeneration energy the moment it tried to emerge."

"That's good, isn't it?" Clara tried to sound positive, "No more parasitic space larva."

"Yes, but it also means the Doctor would have regenerated when their consciousnesses were linked." Clara simply stared at him without understanding. "Regeneration isn't completely random, there are all sorts of factors: conscious, unconscious, chemical, biological, that can affect it."

"And you think the alien's consciousness will have an affect on the Doctor?" Jack nodded gravely. "A negative one, judging by your face."

"Yksins are completely individualistic. They have no empathy, no compassion, no need for companionship. The only being in the universe they require is their host, and you know how they treat them."

"But that's not the Doctor. That's the very antithesis of him. I don't believe the foreign consciousness could affect him so much that it would change things that are so fundamentally _him_."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

"Thank you so much, Mr. Holmes. The detective inspector told me that you were assisting on this case and, well when he told me about all of the work you've done in London... I just can't tell you what a relief it is that you are here helping us. Please tell me, have you found anything yet?" Mrs. Logner, the missing girl's mother, asked, as she ushered Sherlock and John into her home.

"I do believe we are making progress," Sherlock took Jack's phone out of his pocket and followed the readings the Captain had set up for him.

Mrs. Logner followed in his wake, a little confused by this path through the house, "Do you think you know where she is? Or who that dreadful man was? Please Mr. Holmes, I must know. I've been worried sick."

Sherlock stopped beside a small door leading to a cupboard under the stairs. He opened it, took a quick reading, and pocketed the phone, "This is where your daughter spends most of her time."

The woman looked shocked, but quickly replaced that with a slight smile, "Yes, ever since we read Harry Potter together. It's her little playroom."

"And yet," Sherlock took out a small flashlight and shown it around the tiny space, "there are no toys or games, not so much as a crayon in here. Not to mention the complete lack of light." Something on the inside of the door caught his notice and he bent down to examine it.

Mrs. Logner was flabbergasted, "That's because... Mary... she's a very neat child. I don't abide a mess."

"Why is there a lock on the outside?" John asked, bringing his hands up to the sliding bolt.

"That's not a lock." Mrs. Logner said, indignantly, "That is simply there to keep the door closed when it is not in use," her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked less and less pleased to have them on the case.

"But it's a new one," John observed, running his fingers over previous holes in the wood. "Why replace it?"

Sherlock looked smug, John never ceased to amaze him, and he was somehow always on point, "Perhaps the answer is here," Sherlock pointed to indentations on the inside of the door. "Foot prints mainly, but some hand prints as well. And the occasional finger nail impressions. Which is almost funny. Did you know that in a strangers arms your daughter barely squirmed, and yet here in her own home, in her 'playroom' she was quite literally clawing at the door." Sherlock's eyes were burning holes into Mrs. Logner's.

"Get out," she hissed, "I am the victim here. I will not be spoken to in this way."

Sherlock stood up and stared down at the woman, "Mrs. Logner, there are only two ways that this is going to go. First, my team will do another sweep in this house. You see before, they were just trying to find the child. Their goal this time through will be a little different. Who knows what they will find. I somewhat doubt this atrocious neglect is the worst of your crimes against this child. Once the team have completed their search they will bring their findings to the police."

"Or?" the woman asked, her self interest getting the best of her.

"You misunderstand. That will happen regardless. Once that is complete I will go to my good friend the magistrate, and (this is where there is some choice) I will tell him that is this is one of the most heinous cases of child abuse that I have ever worked on, and that you should me made an example of. Or..."

"You'll be kind?" her eyes were large and pleading. Pure manipulation.

"No. Or I will suggest he follow the letter of the law."

The woman's face fell into a sneer, "That's not much of a deal."

"Well you're not much of a person," John added.

Her eyes shot daggers at him, but then turned back to Sherlock, "What do you want in return?"

"A list. Of anywhere or with anyone your daughter would feel safe," Sherlock held out a note pad and pen. Still glaring at him she took it and quickly jotted down a few items. When she passed it back to him their eyes met again and Sherlock couldn't keep the disgust from his face, "She never looked at you, did you know that? When a strange man came and took her away. She was so afraid, but not nearly enough to seek your help. What's that they say, 'the devil you know'? Couldn't even live up to that, could you?"

* * *

Sherlock called in both the police and Torchwood. They could take it from here. As he and John walked back to the entrance John said, "I know it's important to find the girl, but we can't forget about the Doctor. Sherlock, do you have any idea where he could be?"

They had pushed through the crowds of people now converging on the house and were walking down the front steps to Clara and Jack. "If we find the girl we find the Doctor." The others had heard this comment and were now looking over at him expectantly. "Think about it, what is the Doctor always?"

"Clever?" John replied, the only one willing to play this game with him.

Sherlock nearly rolled his eyes, "Kind. He's always kind. And yes, clever too. So he would notice that even after being abducted and having an alien bug removed from her body, the girl never once ran away. He wouldn't have stopped her and it's far too early for Stockholm syndrome to set in. They were in the garage for nearly an hour. That means that she waited there for him. She would have even witnessed the regeneration, and still she did not run. The Doctor would have wondered about that. He would have asked. And upon learning even part of what we have discovered, there is no way he would send her home." Both Clara and Jack were nodding. "The question is, where would be go and how would he get there. His face is no longer an issue, but everyone will be on the lookout for her. Planes and trains are out of the question. A car would be risky. And his ship is all the way back in London."

"Ship?" John asked, glancing down at the list again.

"Space ship," Sherlock clarified with a wave of his hand.

John pointed down the street to the water's edge. "That river would take you to the sea. It's off season, no one would notice if a motor boat went missing. And the child's uncle lives in Whitehaven."

Sherlock beamed, "Well done, John! Tell me Jack, can your team secure more comfortable transport for us than the train?"

* * *

Two hours later all four of them were standing outside Martin Logner's small house in Whitehaven. They rang the bell twice before a diminutive man of about 35 came to the door. "Can I help you?" he asked the group, being careful to only open the door wide enough for him to see out.

"We are looking for your niece, Mary Logner."

The man practically grimaced, "She's in Lancashire with my piece-of-work sister in-law. I haven't seen that girl in years. Her _mother_ won't let me near her," his distaste was palpable.

"We know all about your sister in-law and how she treats her daughter. Believe me, we are in no way here to send her back to that hell. We are friends of the man who helped her and we were hoping she could help us find him."

At that the door opened wider and the little girl appeared beside her uncle, "You're friends of the Doctor? Of course we'll help."

At his niece's insistence Martin led the group into the small living room and Mary did her best to explain her time with the Doctor. She had spend a good deal of time at the garage unconscious, but she had seen his regeneration. "He said he was an alien, that's why he could change his face. I figured he must be a nice one though, because he asked me questions and listened, and when I said I didn't want to go home he brought me here."

"Do you know where he is now?" Clara asked kindly. Trying to hide both the hope and desperation from her voice.

"He said he was going home," the girl said with a small smile.

The moment was interrupted by Clara's mobile. She excused herself and answered it outside, "What is it, Angie?"

"The Doctor. He's gone. I heard the TARDIS and by the time I went outside it had disappeared. He didn't listen to my note. I told him to come inside and see me. That it was important. Is he there with you?"

"No Angie," Clara was working very hard to keep her voice even, "he's not."

Angie could tell Clara was upset, "He probably just has no idea where you are. It's like you used to say when we got lost, that we should stay in one place and you'd find us. You're off mucking about and he doesn't know where you are. That's all. He'll probably have a look around and then pop back here and wait. I'll call you if I see him."

"Thanks Ang," Clara hung up the phone and placed it back in her pocket. Her hand brushed against something hard and cold. She sighed and pulled out the TARDIS key. She could feel it in her chest, a dull aching, an emptiness. She knew the Doctor wasn't coming back.


	13. Farewells

**A/N** _So in the end there will be one chapter after this. I'm just editing it now and it should be up tomorrow or so. In the mean time, enjoy._

**Chapter 13 - Farewells**

Jack drove the others to the train station. He was headed back to Lancashire. There was still plenty of work for him and his team to do on the case, "At this point it's mostly clean up and information control. Make sure the authorities don't notice anything extraterrestrial, but do find all other evidence."

At the train station he gave both men great big hugs, much to John's astonishment and Sherlock's mild amusement, "Gentlemen it's been a pleasure. Keep us in mind the next time one of your cases gets a bit other worldly." He kissed Clara on the cheek and took her hands in his, "We could be wrong, you know," he said softly.

"I've thought about that. I've also been thinking about the last time he changed. That he said goodbye to everyone and has not seen them since. Maybe it wasn't the creature that flew away. Maybe it was just the Doctor."

Jack cupped her face in his hands, "Or maybe he'll come back." He stepped away, but continued to smiled at Clara, "'Course if he doesn't I'm tempted to just hire you myself."

"That's sweet, but I think it's time for a long overdo journey."

"Well, if you're interested when you get back..."

"I'll be sure to tell my toast all about it," she smirked.

He returned it easily, "Clever girl."

* * *

The train ride back to London was spent in silence. Sherlock slept or at least pretended to, John read, and Clara stared out the window, watching the landscape go by. _The slow path_. It would take some getting use to.

* * *

Just outside Euston Station the trio made their farewells. John embraced Clara and said earnestly, "It's been a pleasure meeting you." He seemed to catch himself and quickly added, "I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Me too," she replied, kissing him on the cheek, "I'm very sorry about your sister in-law."

She turned to Sherlock and extended her hand, "Well Mr. Holmes, you easily exceed your reputation. A right super hero, you are. Thank you."

"Ms. Oswald," Sherlock bowed his head slightly and shook her hand, "when you return from your extended holiday stop by Baker Street. We're still very new to all of this alien stuff. We could use a consultant."

Clara laughed, "Consultant to a Consultanting Detective. That's good, it'd be great on a business card." She looked thoughtful for a moment, "I appreciate the offer. I'm not making any plans yet, taking life as it comes. See you around, boys," and with that she turned and headed for the tube.

Sherlock merely shook his head, "Impossible girl."

John was smiling after her, when something occurred to him, "Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked back at his friend.

"What am I suppose to tell Harry?"

"Well, you can tell her that her ex wife is actually a copy of a clever girl from Lancashire who hitched up with a time traveling alien and frequently saves the world."

"Alright then. That's should do it," John said sarcastically.

"Oh very well. Tell her the man was a doctor and was on his way to a greater emergency and slipped away to save countless lives. And that even though he still believes it was the right choice, he feels dreadful about the whole thing. Tell her that Clara didn't know him, but she did what she always does: the right thing. She looks after people, she cares for them. That's who she is, who she will always be, and who she was in that moment."

"So that's it, after everything? I'm basically just going to tell her that Clara was _kind_?"

"Either that or impossible. Take your pick."

* * *

It was quite late by the time Clara returned to the Maitland's house. She had already moved out of the attic, but had left her single suitcase there and Mr. Maitland insisted she stay on their sofa if she ever needed a place. Clara moved silently through the dark house to the living room, being careful not to wake anyone. There she found Angie sleeping on the sofa. The girl stirred at Clara's touch. "You're back. Is the Doctor with you?"

"No Angie. I don't think he's coming back."

It took a moment for her tired mind to fully understand what Clara was saying. When at last she did Angie pulled Clara into a hug. As she pulled away her expression changed slightly, under the concern there was a fraction of hope, "Does this mean you're staying with us?"

"Angie..."

"I'm sorry he's gone. It's stupid and he shouldn't of, but if he's not here you could just stay."

"This was only ever meant to be temporary. I was always going to travel, long before I ever met the Doctor. That's been my plan since I was a kid."

"Everyone always leaves!"

Clara couldn't completely see Angie's face in the dark, but she heard her voice crack, and from her tone Clara knew Angie was talking about her and not the Doctor. Clara pulled the child into an embrace and rubbed her back comfortingly, "Life is change. Nothing stays the same. People come into your life and they go, and sometimes that's hard, but it's never worse than the alternative."

"What's that?" Angie asked, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"Never knowing them to begin with. Just because somebody leaves doesn't diminish all the good times or the memories. Besides, I'm not gone forever. We'll still be in touch. It'll just be different, that's all."

"I don't want it to be," the girl clung to Clara like a younger child might, without the usual self-consciousness of teenagers.

"I know. But we have to embrace change."

"Why?"

"Because it's going to happen whether we want it to or not."


	14. Doctor Who?

**A/N** _We finally made it to the end. Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think of it._

**Chapter 14 - Doctor Who?**

_The Great Wall of China is a series of stone and earthen fortifications built, rebuilt, and maintained between the 5th century BC and the 16th century to protect the northern borders of the Chinese Empire during the rule of successive dynasties. The Great Wall is the world's longest human-made structure, stretching over approximately 6,400 km (4,000 miles) from Shanhaiguan in the east to Lop Nur in the west. It has been estimated that somewhere in the range of 2 to 3 million Chinese died as part of the centuries-long project of building the wall.*_

"No wonder you never took me here," Clara said to herself, unconsciously holding the TARDIS key that hung around her neck, "we would have saved the day, rescued all the people and it never would have been built. Unless it's a fixed point." She let go of the key and shook her head as if to dislodge her own sentimentality. "Who knows, maybe it's alien and it's all a big lie." She hugged_ 101 Places to See_ to her chest and gazed out over the first place on its list: the Great Wall of China. She secured a smile on her face in the hopes that a real one would soon replace it, and began the climb. It take didn't long for Clara's delight to be genuine. She loved the feeling of the stone beneath her fingers as she ran her hands along the railing and the way she could look out over the wall and see it wind its way up and down mountain peaks in all directions. The cruelty and cunning of human ingenuity. She walked along those ancient stones and for the first time she really believed that she could do it, live the slow path. For didn't the world and all the marvelous people in it offer excitement, mystery, wrongs to set right, work to be done? There was a lifetime of possibilities here and she was off to see the first 101 places and then figure the rest of it out from there. She walked on until she reached a dead end marked with a 'Do Not Enter' sign on a large stone block.

"I thought this went on for miles," a woman next to Clara said in a rather thick American accent.

"4000, but they're still restoring some sections of it, so those areas are closed. Don't think they fancy tourists falling off. Wanna see?"

Clara climbed up on top of the block and offered the other woman her hand. The American looked around nervously before politely declining and walking back the other way. _I guess no one ever told her 'Do Not Enter' was more of a suggestion_. Clara used her new found height to gaze over at the empty section of the wall. It was in various states of disrepair, some sections were nearly complete while others had gaping holes in them, bypassed by uneven planks of wood. Chinese workplace safety having only come so far in the last two thousand years. No one was working on that section today, although Clara could make out a smattering of tools and equipment left behind. Clara took it all in, her eyes following the meandering path of ancient stone, until something caught her eye. Her hand instinctively went to her necklace. She was seeing things, she had to be. She blinked, shook her head, looked away and looked back. No matter what she did it was still there, a little blue box half a mile or so along the wall.

The path to the police box wasn't nearly as treacherous as it could have been. Clara was on one of the shorter sections of the Wall and at several locations it dipped down to just a few metres above the forest floor. It didn't take much to jump down and hike through the trees until she could climb up an equally short section on the damaged side. From there Clara simply watched her step. It was dangerous to be sure, but after everything she'd seen and done, after all those lives, it was hard to be afraid of stone, wood and heights. Besides, she could be walking on a cloud for all she cared. He was here. He'd come back. She couldn't remember ever being so happy.

When she reached the TARDIS she reached out and ran her hand over the wood. "I've missed you," she said softly, "stupid, wonderful box." She slipped the key off from around her neck and unlocked the door.

What a sight: purple coat and bow tie. Floppy hair and flailing limbs. Those big, sad eyes and that lovable, goofy grin. She could see it all. She could see him so clearly in her mind. All Clara wanted was for him to be standing there, but he wasn't. No one was; the control room was empty. Clara glance at the section below but didn't see a soul there either.

She walked out the door to take a look around and found him there leaning against the TARDIS: the older man from the video. "Took you long enough to get here. Guess it's not surprising that I'd work out your next step before you did, but honestly you apes can be thick sometimes."

Clara just stared at him dumbstruck, her usual witty reply nowhere to be found. The man, the _Doctor_, closed the distance between them and stared down at her from mere inches away. "Were you always this short? I mean look at you, you barely make it up to the windows. How did I not remember you this short?"

"You came back..." she managed to say at last. Her brain desperately trying to catch up, "Did you come back for me?"

The Doctor scoffed, "For you? You humans have an ego on you, I'll give you that. 400 years after Copernicus and Galileo and you still think the universe revolves around you. I can't tell you what a relief it has been to get away from this tiny little world and its insignificant people. I'm sure it hasn't been too long for you but I've been traveling for ages, and it is such a joy to do it unencumbered," he seemed to dismiss Clara with a wave of his hand and walked back in the TARDIS.

"Then why did you come back?"

The Doctor stopped at her words. He reached out and gripped the door frame, but he did not turn around to face her, "Something's different this time. I'm different. It's like there's a war inside my head and I'm not sure which side I'm suppose to be on. Some times I just can't quite remember..."

He went silent for a moment. Clara wanted to reach out for him, but she kept her hands at her side, uncertain what this Doctor would do. "Remember what?"

"Who I am." He turned around suddenly and bent down so they were at eye level, "But you, you know, don't you?"

"I always know," it was barely more than a whisper.

He stood up again, "Yes well, timelines and all that. Mostly an accident, but you're the only person who's seen all of me, even if in a very limited way. You seemed like a logical person to seek answers from."

Clara nodded, "Answers... I guess it always comes back to the same question: Doctor who?" she smiled at him, a small, weak smile, but it was a start.

"Indeed," in an instant he was inside the TARDIS, fiddling with the console, "Well come on if you're coming. No sense in staying here while we sort it all out."

Clara didn't move. She was waiting for something, although she wasn't quite sure what. Perhaps the _Impossible_.

"Come along, Clara," came that bright, familiar baritone. "You're letting in a draft." Her Doctor poked his head out the door in a way that made his fringe swing back and forth. He awkwardly tucked it back with long fingers. His body followed his head and there he stood in front of her looking down sympathetically. Those sad, old eyes, so incongruous in his young face. "I promised I'd show you the stars. My Impossible Girl." He placed his hand against her cheek and then he was gone. A phantom, a figment, her mind longing for a goodbye.

"Well, are you coming?" a harder voiced called from inside the TARDIS.

Clara took a look around at the cruelty and cunning of human ingenuity. At the way the landscape had been manufactured and had regrown. _Change_. The Doctor was change, she understood that better than most, and if he needed her help then she would give it gladly. _Don't walk away_. Thousands of life times and she never had. She wasn't about to start today. "I'm coming," she said as she closed the TARDIS door behind her.

_*Quoted from greatwall-of-china .com_

**A/N** _Moffat's said the twelfth Doctor will be colder and harder to like. Thought I'd try my hand at that. Thanks again, all._


End file.
